


i like me better (when i'm with you)

by Lira169



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Amnesia, Fluff, Harley Keener as Iron Lad, M/M, Peter is patient, fun fact: i wrote this whole fic in comic sans because i could, harley is a hopeless romantic, it actually helped me write faster idk how, until the guitar comes out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:14:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25485295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lira169/pseuds/Lira169
Summary: "Does your head hurt? You hit it really hard, your suit ran out of power and you fell so far we were all so scared you were out for ten hours why didn't you tell us you were running out-""I'm sorry," Harls said, "who are you?"Harley hit his head. Peter is patient with Harley's recovery. Tony is planning the world's longest lecture on self-preservation.
Relationships: Harley Keener/Peter Parker
Comments: 10
Kudos: 136





	i like me better (when i'm with you)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [impravidus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/impravidus/gifts).



> Hi! Me again. This fic is a gift to @impravidus! Happy birthday! You are amazing! I hope you have a great birthday! I also hope my fic lives up to your expectations because everything pales to your writing uwu
> 
> Me? Writing my least favourite trope because it's someone else's favourite trope? It's more likely than you think.
> 
> Beta'd by @F0reverl0st

He blinked once, twice, three times until he was fully awake. He took in the room around him - he was lying on a bed in a white room, but the bed felt unbalanced somewhat. He raised his hand to see an IV needle attached. It itched. He turned his head to the side to see a head of brown hair. 

_Where am I?_

He tried to sit up, shaking away the rest of the drowsiness that clung to his brain like a fog.

The movement woke the boy sleeping on his right side. The boy sat up in an instant, eyes alert, and _damn_ did he look a mess, with his puffy eyes, dark eyebags and rumpled clothing. This wasn't even including the way he slept, sitting on a chair with his head craned to lay on the bed. The boy must be feeling all sorts of ache right now.

"Harls, you're awake!" The boy said, tired eyes sparkling with happiness and relief, "don't get up, let me call the nurse!"

The boy pressed the call button for the nurse, his other hand still on Harls' - that was apparently his name - shoulder where he stopped Harls from sitting up. His hand was warm.

"Does your head hurt? You hit it really hard, your suit ran out of power and you fell so far we were all so scared you were out for ten hours _why didn't you tell us you were running out-_ "

"I'm sorry," Harls said, "who are you?"

The boy stilled in his frantic checking over of Harls’ body. Brown eyes met blue in shock.

“You… don’t remember me?”

Harls looked down, staring at his hands.

“I don’t remember anything. You said my name was Harls and that I was in a suit? And fell?”

“I…” The brunette boy looked up, blinking rapidly, “yeah. Your name is Harley. I’m Peter. You fell from a very large height, we didn’t know if you would make it.”

“Peter,” the name was easy on his tongue, “you’re pretty cute.”

Yeah, he was lying in a hospital bed, possibly concussed, but he guessed he was never one to beat about the bush.

Peter smiled.

“Thanks, you’re not so bad yourself, Harls.”

The door to the ward opened as a few nurses entered behind a doctor. The doctor walked up to his bedside as the nurses checked his vitals on the monitor.

“Hi, Harley, how are you feeling?”

“Um,” he said, “okay?”

“Harls can’t remember anything, Dr. Cho,” Peter said, clenching his shaking hands into a fist, “is he gonna be okay?”

  
  
Peter was scared. Harley didn’t like that. He had the urge to pull the boy into his arms and run his fingers through brown locks until the shaking stopped. 

_How wonderful it would be if Peter was both attracted to men and single…_

Dr. Cho frowned, "there was a chance of amnesia, but there's no predicting the severity. We'll run a few tests if you could step out for a moment, Peter."

Harley let out an involuntary whine as the cute boy was ushered out of the room. The next hour was a blur of tests - look here, look here, do this, do that, he barely remembered falling asleep.

The next time he awoke, he was incredibly drowsy and everything felt numb. He guessed it was probably the medication running through his veins. Peter was in the room, dozing off in the chair. Harley took a moment to take in the other boy. 

Peter looked a little more well-rested, but still filled with nerves. He definitely wasn’t taking enough care of himself, as evident in the same clothing as previously, the half-eaten sandwich on the table, and the fact that he was dozing off in the chair instead of resting at home. 

_He could have asked to sleep on the bed with me._

Then again, Harley had been _really_ unconscious.

Peter looked even softer when he was asleep. Harley had the very strong urge to take the boy into his arms.

Peter started twitching in his seat, shaking his head and letting out soft mumbles. Was he having a nightmare?

“Hey,” Harley tried to wake him up, but the word came out soft and gravelly rough. 

_Dammit._

“He-” Okay, trying to yell was _not_ the best idea, because his dry throat evidently did not vibe with the overuse. He started coughing uncontrollably, and sat up to hunch over so he could cover his mouth with his hand (he didn't have any recollection of his family, but something in him knew that momma did _not_ raise a boy without manners), and the sudden movement made him dizzy and _wow_ his body hurt.

Not the best idea, but it still worked. Peter startled awake when he started coughing, instantly rushing to his bedside.

“Harls, why are you up? Are you okay?”

“W-” _cough_ “water.”

A glass of water was pressed into his hand and he immediately started sipping away at it. The rush of cool water down his throat was a feeling he didn’t think he would fall in love with.

He growled when the now half-empty glass of water was taken away from him. Peter winced sympathetically as he placed the glass back on the bedside table.

“Sorry Harls, you shouldn’t be drinking too fast.”

“Why do you call me Harls?”

“I always call you Harls.”

“What do I normally call you?”

Peter flushed, “Pete, among other things.”

Cryptic and vague, but he didn’t know Peter well enough to push.

“Do I have family? You’re the only one I’ve seen here.”

“Yeah,” Peter said, “your mom and Abigail and also Tony and the Avengers, it’s technically past visiting hours so you don’t see them here.”

“Why are you here then?”

“Uh,” Peter glanced around the room, “I didn’t wanna leave you alone.”

“We seem close,” Harley concluded. It was highly unlikely that he meant little to Peter when they had nicknames for each other and Peter stayed past visiting hours to keep him company.

“Yeah, we are… very close.”

The door to the ward slid open to allow the entry of a well-dressed man who sauntered in like he owned the place. Something about this man did not sit well with Harley, he had a vague feeling that they mutually spited each other.

“Ah, the great Harley Keener, irresponsible and stubborn and born without self-preservation instincts, none of which I was responsible for! You’re awake,” the man announced his presence almost immediately, taking off his shades to look appraisingly at the two boys, “how are you feeling, kid?”

“I’m, uh, okay?” Everything hurt and his throat still felt like sand and he did not know this man and he was confused but he had no idea how to express that into words.

“Uh huh,” the man said, pointing to Peter with his shades, “and you?”

“I’m okay.”

“Peter said it was past visiting hours,” Harley said, breaking the momentary silence, “how are you here?”

The man shot him a deadpan look, as if to say _seriously?_

“I’m Tony Stark, do I care about visiting hours? This is also _my_ tower, why can’t I be here?”

Harley blinked.

_Tony who?_

The man sighed, sitting at the edge of Harley’s bed.

“Anyway,” Tony said, “I’m here to check up on you two. Dr. Cho filled me in on what’s happening, she said you should regain your memories eventually, but she can’t get an accurate prediction of how long it will take. It would help for you to talk to people and see pictures, relive memories, blablabla, but it’ll all turn out good, so don’t worry your little heads about it.”

“...thanks?” Harley said. 

Tony let out another sigh and stood up, “yeah, this is really weird,” his eyes suddenly softened, changing his demeanor from confident and carefree to worried and concerned, “you really had us worried there, kid, don’t you ever do anything like that again. You’re lucky to survive, even luckier that whatever you’re feeling and going through isn’t permanent. When you fully regain your memory, expect a _very_ long lecture on how not to give all of us heart attacks.”

“I’m sorry,” Harley said, his heart aching at the tired expressions of Tony and Peter. He wondered exactly how many others he had worried.

“Don’t be, you don’t know what you did yet. You can apologise when you know exactly how big you fucked up.”

“Tony!” Peter snapped.

“What, did I lie? When was the last time you ate? You didn’t even finish that sandwich.”

Peter deflated.

He really messed up, huh? He wasn’t sure if he wanted to remember what exactly he did.

“Anyway,” Tony said, “I’ll leave you two lovebirds to do whatever you do when you’re alone, don’t stay up too late.”

Tony left as quickly as he entered, leaving the two to stew in silence.

“Lovebirds?” Harley asked.

“Um, yeah,” Peter flushed, “we’re dating. At least we were, I don’t know if you’re still comfortable with that.”

“You’re cute as hell, why would I not be comfortable with it?”

Peter held up his hands to hide his flaming red face, “yeah well, I don’t know.”

“You said I called you Peter among other things,” Harley recalled, “please tell me I call you sugarplum.”

“... you did.”

Harley felt his lips stretch into a grin. 

“How did we meet?”

“Well, we met in the lab. We love working with tech, you started with making potato gun prototypes in your garage - that’s how you met Tony, but that’s another story - and we both knew Tony. I was his personal intern, and you would come over to the tower during the holidays. You started flirting with me from day one when we met in Tony’s workshop.”

“I’d be surprised if I _didn’t_ ,” Harley mused, “cute boy like you, gotta be on my game before someone else beats me.”

Peter huffed, rolling his eyes, clearly more at ease with where they now stood with each other.

“You’re a major flirt, if you didn’t already notice.”

“You get cold easily, don’t you?” Harley observed, gesturing to Peter’s many layers of clothing.

“Kinda? I mean, it’s complicated.”

Harley raised an eyebrow, “try me.”

“I got bitten by a radioactive spider so now I have spider-like abilities, super strength, a sense for danger and other stuff, therefore I cannot thermoregulate.”

Harley blinked.

He blinked again.

“Yeah okay, let’s go back to that topic in future because I cannot process that information.”

Harley mustered enough strength to shift himself to the edge of his hospital bed.

“What are you doing? Stop, you might hurt yourself-”

Harley grinned up at Peter, who was now leaning over him worriedly.

“I made space, come lie next to me.”

Peter sighed, frowning at him, “you could have hurt yourself!”

“But I didn’t,” Harley pouted, “and I made all that effort to make space…”

Another sigh, and the bed dipped as Peter laid down, turning to the side so he was facing Harley.

“Hey there,” Harley whispered with a smile.

“Hey there yourself.”

“Tell me more.”

Harley didn’t learn much that night, barely even remembered what Peter told him. He was so exhausted.

Peter didn’t mind, though. Sweet, patient Peter stayed with him day and night, and never complained about him asking the same questions over and over again. Peter was never absent when Harley awoke.

Peter was there with him when his mother and sister visited, standing by him as his family recounted memories they shared, interjecting every now and then with what Harley had told him about said memories.

When he got discharged a week later, Peter was by his side day and night, constantly watching out for him in case he got dizzy spells. Peter brought him to the workshop - the place they first met - and opened his eyes to the world of superhero-ing. He saw Spider-Man and Iron-Lad, and Tony ran footage of their patrols via FRIDAY. Peter pulled up all of Harley's inventions and designs for future inventions, and knew every one of them by heart.

"You know," Peter said, three days after he was discharged, "you never really asked for proof that we're boyfriends, or that any of what I'm saying is real. You're just believing everything I say."

"I trust you," Harley said in return, and asked another question about the life he used to live.

Life slowly took on a routine. They had decided that it was best for him to stay at the tower until he fully recovered, and his family had moved into one of the guest floors to stay close to him. 

On Mondays, he stayed on the guest floor with his mother and sister, asking question after question about his life and where they stood as a family.

On Tuesdays, he worked in the lab, re-learning his own designs and improving upon them, now that he had a fresh view of his own work.

On Wednesdays, he reviewed footage of himself as Iron-Lad, noting the features of his suit and his weak points.

On Thursdays, he caught up on global news, keeping up-to-date with whatever was happening around the world.

Fridays were his favourite. On Fridays, Peter took him out on dates, reliving past memories. They had been to the café where they had their first date, the rooftop upon which they had their first kiss during patrol, sloppy and rushed and quickly broken up by a cry for help, the park bench where Peter broke down over stress and they sat, holding each other for hours, just them in the world, two boys going through life.

Saturdays and Sundays were spent in the tower, either exploring or lazing around. Harley was introduced to the Avengers, a name that meant nothing to him until he witnessed them on a mission. A group of heroes that stood between humanity and its threat.

There was a routine, but it was very frequently broken. Some days he was so overwhelmed with information and returning memories that he couldn't even get out of bed or speak a word to anyone. Once, on a Friday, he experienced a rush of memories from their date and couldn't handle being there any longer. Peter took him back home without a single complaint.

Slowly but surely, he started regaining his memories. It started small - things that had already been told to him, like his first young innovator award in elementary school, or the time Tony fell into his garage when he was ten. He'd start remembering the events recounted to him, only this time they felt _real_ , _tangible_. Memories, instead of stories (he also found out through his own memories, how Abigail's recounts of their interactions were incredibly skewed to make him sound a lot nerdier than he actually was).

He then started recalling things he had never heard of, or thought to ask. He learned that he was a decent cook, but really didn't know how to crack an egg until a few months ago. He learned that he once let Abigail take the blame for making a mess in the kitchen. He also learned that before he met Peter, he used to lie awake in bed at night, wondering if he was ever going to be enough for somebody.

He still laid awake, sometimes, but with Peter, they were enough.

Four months after he was discharged, he remembered exactly what happened when he fell.

It was stupid, really. Incredibly idiotic. He had been annoyed and upset during the fight with the army of killer robots. He and Peter had been enjoying a perfectly fine evening in their favourite restaurant, celebrating their two year anniversary. He even had a whole thing planned out - his guitar was in the staff room, ready to be pulled out when dessert was served so he could serenade his boyfriend and be romantic and cheesy and make it a night to remember. Instead, the restaurant was caught in the crossfire, they didn't even _get_ to dessert, and the robots were equipped with devices that sapped energy from any available source, including his suit.

He was annoyed and upset and let his anger cloud his judgment and thought he could take out the last of the robots before his suit ran out of power and forgot that the amount of stress his suit could normally handle would have been significantly decreased by the energy-sapping devices.

Four months of recovery, just because he was pissed he didn't get to sing a cheesy song.

He deserved a lecture. Multiple lectures. Even from Pepper.

"Hey Harls," Peter smiled, taking, "why are we here?"

"We are here," Harley said, "because it's a Friday, and I wanted to bring you somewhere for a change."

"The Orchard," the other boy said, looking around, "it's our favourite restaurant. We decided we would have all of our anniversaries and birthdays here."

Peter's wistful smile dropped to a sad grimace, "we were here celebrating our anniversary before you got hurt."

"I know, we'd been together two years, and we were about to get dessert. Lava cake and ice cream."

Brown eyes widened.

"You remember that day?"

"I remember everything," he said, as dinner was served. He had ordered exactly the same dishes they had ordered previously, "I know today isn't our anniversary, but I'd like to make up for the mess that was June 19th."

"Harley," Peter's eyes were wet and pooling with tears of happiness, "you _remember_."

"How could I ever forget you?" Harley responded, stealing a bite from Peter's plate, "how could I not remember, when you had so much faith in me? We made no progress in the first month and even I had resigned myself to making memories from scratch and you never gave up on me, sugarplum."

Peter didn't respond, but he was shaking with effort to stop himself from crying. Harley once again felt the strong urge to pull the boy into his arms and run his fingers through brown locks until the shaking stopped, only this time, he actually could.

He was Harley Keener and he was lucky to love and be loved by Peter Parker, and he was going to hug his sobbing boyfriend in their favorite restaurant, judgmental onlookers be damned.

Fridays were his favourite, but he had found his favourite Friday - the night they did a second try of their second anniversary celebration. The food was delicious, the restaurant was safe, and their love had passed the arduous test of patience and faith.

Harley had a whole serenade planned out, but he was never a good singer. When the guitar was pulled out and the music stopped playing over the speakers, Peter shrunk in his seat, head in his hands, as Harley tried his best to make his boyfriend fall in love with his cheesy demonstration.

Hey, if Peter stayed through his memory loss, he definitely wouldn't leave over his bad singing, right?

...Right?

_'To be young and in love in New York City (New York City)_

_To not know who I am but still know that I'm good long as you're here with me_

_To be drunk and in love in New York City_

_Midnight into morning coffee_

_Burning through the hours talking_

_Damn, I like me better when I'm with you_

_I like me better when I'm with you_

_I knew from the first time, I'd stay for a long time 'cause_

_I like me better when_

_I like me better when I'm with you'_

**Author's Note:**

> If you're into parkner: https://discord.gg/Z6PqU6v
> 
> We have cookies!


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